


cirrus-caught simulacra

by faorism



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Magic, Short & Sweet, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2019-01-25 08:11:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12526884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faorism/pseuds/faorism
Summary: After an ill omen descends on Hasetsu, Yuuri and Victor discuss the practicalities behind their witchly duties.





	cirrus-caught simulacra

**Author's Note:**

  * For [calciseptine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/calciseptine/gifts).



> written for my beloved [calciseptine](http://calciseptine.tumblr.com/), who requested "magic au but hedgewitches." thank you for always knowing just what to say to inspire me.

Victor must have a surveying charm hidden in a corner of Yuuri's cottage, because he opens the front door precisely when Axel's fever breaks and not a moment sooner. The creak of the old hinges plays harmony to the girl's gasp, which bubbles up sudden and low, like a gust of wind flown up a hill had caught her by surprise.

Ignoring Victor in favor of his patient, Yuuri's hands hover above Axel's temples as he focuses on the successful spell shape. Yuuri pushes in the breeze, flushing out the foul thoughts ailing her. It takes another fifteen minutes, but thankfully Yuuri only needs to make small adjustments to the image to maintain the same effect: the wind Yuuri dances through her hair moves on to ruffle her clothes before tickling her nose and then it blows the seeds off a dandelion he projects into her hand.

Axel's clammy, flushed skin doesn't lose all of its pallor, but eventually she smiles a smile so sweet it eases away the tension around her tiny brows.

Good witches prepare an incantation or elegant gesture to signal the end of a spell, especially when the session relies solely on mental projections. It doesn't add to the healing, but it comforts witnesses unable to see the images themselves. Yuuri is not a good witch, however, so he only plucks the focusing amethyst off Axel's forehead, pockets it, and drops his hands to his sides.

He looks up at Takeshi, who has been silent throughout the cast. "It's, uh, done."

Takeshi slides his hand out of his daughter's and wipes beads of sweat from her face. She was struggling to keep conscious when he brought her, but now she sleeps peacefully on the cot Yuuri's set up in his main room to tend to guests.

Knowing his daughter sleeps like the dead, Takeshi doesn't bother softening his voice as he asks: "She cured?"

Yuuri nods. "Monday's fog brought the ill omen that's gotten everyone sick, but so far once that's been pushed out, everyone seems to have recovered okay."

Takeshi's grim expression melts with the good news. "Thanks, man." He slaps Yuuri's shoulder. Hard.

"But of course, I'm not perfect and I might've missed a shadow in her mind. You know, just be on the lookout. Axel might not have a fever again, but if she has trouble focusing…"

"Got it, got it. Owe you one. Oh! Actually, I'm sure Yuuko is gonna want to celebrate by cooking our little girl's favorite soup. The one with pork belly and cabbage? Maybe I'll bring you some?"

"Takeshi, really, that's not necess—"

"Oh, I love pork belly!"

Takeshi and Yuuri jump at Victor's interjection and both turn to where he sits on a stool just feet away from the two men. Takeshi has an excuse for his surprise, having had his back to the door and not seeing Victor come in; Yuuri just… forgot. He blushes over his rudeness at not greeting his guest.

"Would bringing another serving be too much trouble?"

"No, no, no trouble at all, Caster Nikiforov! Yuuko always cooks a feast. She might even slip in some extra treats, knowing you'll be receiving them," Takeshi says gamely, readily accepting Victor's presence in the cottage.

As if Victor belongs here.

As if _the_ Victor Nikiforov belongs in Yuuri's little worn-down shack at the edge of the village proper.

As if master caster and traveling marvel and warding genius _Victor Nikiforov_ hadn't one day shown up to Hasetsu without warning and with his canine familiar in tow, only to bang on Yuuri's door and declare Yuuri his apprentice.

As if the last few months haven't been anything but normal.

As if—  

Which is all to say: Takeshi accepts Victor's presence in Yuuri's home more easily than he probably should.  

"You really don't have to," Yuuri says quietly, but Takeshi is already talking out his plans for the rest of the evening as he tries to guess at when they should expect him back. As he speaks, Takeshi wraps Axel up in the quilt he carried her over in. He hefts her into the crook of his arm, obviously unwilling to wake her for the walk home through the woods back into town.

Yuuri can tell when the battle is lost.

The thought of imposing on his friends makes his stomach upset, however, so he tries to gently push the two Nishigori's out the door as quickly as he can. He nods through Takeshi's speech, accepts 9 PM as a good time to receive the soup, and bids Takeshi goodbye. Victor gives his own enthusiastic "See you soon!" without leaving his seat. And then, it is just Yuuri and Victor in the cottage.

If Yuuri was alone, he would slump against the front door, face pressed to the wood as he settled his nerves gained from managing Takeshi's unwarranted gratefulness. But his skin tingles with Victor's eyes boring into the back of his head.

Yuuri swallows, stretches his mouth into something resembling a smile, and turns around.

"Hello, Victor."

"Hello, Yuuri."

Yuuri waits for Victor to follow up with a joke or non-sequitur that will lead him down a rabbithole of conversation, as Yuuri has come to expect from him.

Victor apparently has other plans. He keeps his mouth shut, but his expression is mostly cheerful, pleasant, undemanding. There is something in his eyes, however, that makes Yuuri pause. They are… not as bright as usual. Tired. Victor hasn't been by in the past few days, unusual for sure, but Yuuri had thought little of it. He was grateful, actually, needing the time to focus on the flood of those afflicted by the omen as they stumbled through his door.

Yuuri's stomach churns at how he overlooked Victor's absence. He can at least correct his thoughtlessness with the man here and now.

"Are you alright?" Yuuri walks over to Victor, taking care not to crowd him. "Did the omen get to you too?"

If Victor is surprised by the worry in Yuuri's voice or by Yuuri's noticing that something was off in the first place, he doesn't show it beyond a slight widening of his eyes. "You know that witches can't be swayed by an omen." When Yuuri doesn't relax, Victor continues, softly. "My mind is my own."

"Are you sure? You look…" Yuuri doesn't want to offend Victor or his vanity, so he lets the sentence hang empty.

Victor laughs at Yuuri's attempt at preserving his dignity. At the very least, the good humor opens his heart up enough for him to share the truth. "I was asked to strengthen the wards throughout town, after Monday's damp brought in…" He gestures to the cot, letting the memory of Axel and her fever speak for him.

"But… but we had a master caster come two years ago to work on them. He spent six weeks on the wards!"

Yuuri knows this because the townsfolk first approached him with the project, promising the commission they would pay an outside contractor on top of his regular salary. It was a tempting offer, but there's a reason in casting competitions Yuuri avoids fourth-level spells like omen wards: he's never even landed one correctly in practice (much to Victor's chagrin).

Yuuri wouldn't dare trust his flimsy wards with the protection of his neighbors.

"It's the hot springs," Victor groans, the critical edge to his words speeding up his speech. "I know you warned me about how they leach from us, and I've felt it when we train, but to work on a large scale was _horrible_ , Yuuri, just _horrible_. No wonder you and your predecessors set up here in this drafty house far away from town rather than in something comfortable like your parents' lovely bathhouse. If you're concentrating properly, you can feel that the amount of spell shaping you would use to ward an entire house elsewhere only shields one room, maybe two here. Obviously, your mayor (lovely though she is) hired a prideful fool if he didn't notice the drain. It's like you, in reverse."—"Victor…"—"Oh I'm not being harsh, just honest. You already know your insecurity stops you from utilizing your impressive mana supply _out_ side of the draw of Hasetsu's springs. That failure of a caster, on the other hand, let his pride keep him from realizing that he couldn't access his mana supply correctly while _in_ side the leach. Like I said. You, in reverse. (Don't worry, I prefer you and your problems, catastrophic though them may be!) At least I was able to use some of what that witch left behind, but… Well, I regret not double-checking work that wasn't my own earlier in my stay here. Awful of me, to be so irresponsible. Would have saved everyone a lot of trouble this week.

"But!" Victor perks up, claps his hands together. "Warding is always such a crowd draw, you know. With all the lights and the chanting and the dancing. I gave Hasetsu a little spectacle. Not a bad way to spend a week, hm?"

Somewhat dizzy from Victor's rant, Yuuri's heart stutters over this last bit of news. Yuuri's vision of Victor's past few days is as clear an image as it would be if Victor pushed the projection straight into his mind. Yuuri imagines all the lush spells shaped by his instructor's strong, pale hands. His pulse races.

Yuuri cannot deny his regret and envy at having missed such a sight, even if it's one he has long grown familiar with not only as Victor's apprentice, but also as a fellow competitor at tournaments. Yuuri isn't very good, so even if he places into the big top-tier meets he doesn't advance far. But the effort to qualify and the humiliation of losing were at least counterbalanced by glimpses of Victor in action. A shiver runs down Yuuri's spine at how beautiful Victor's wards must have been this week.

The sensation startles Yuuri, and with an edge of horror Yuuri realizes he's been staring (longingly) at Victor's hands where they rest on his knees.

Victor looks completely at ease, but goosebumps prickle Yuuri's arm as he tries to salvage the moment interrupted by his daydreaming.

"I'm sorry you had to do so much work when you're supposed to be on sabbatical. Did you finish?"

"Heavens no. I've started with the most vulnerable buildings, but with the sophistication of the wards needed to counteract the springs, there's too much for one man to do—even if that man is the great Victor Nikiforov." He laughs, unselfconscious of his boasting. "Poor Makkachin couldn't even accompany me for this visit; she was too tuckered out for the walk. No, I can't do this alone. I called in favors to some friends, and they'll be here to assist within the fortnight. With my coven's work serving as the foundation, any idiot can upkeep the wards without incident for another four, five decades. Probably more."

Yuuri balks. He knows the kind of witchly company Victor keeps, the kind with commission rates instead of community-sponsored annual allowances. And on top of that, for them to pool their energy as a coven…

"Victor, the costs—"

"Are already paid for by years' worth of favors I've provided them. Together it'll only take us nine, ten days. Eight if you aren't busy and can standby as a mana reservoir. And believe me, keeping a town safe is far, far more pleasant a cause than what I've ever had to do for my dear disgrace of a friend, Chris."

"But—"

"No one will be inconvenienced, I promise. …Well, Yurio might throw a fuss about coming back here so soon after his awfully public defeat, but no matter. That sore loser better show if he knows what's good for him."

Despite how flippantly Victor is brushing it off, Yuuri is touched by the man's generosity. Hasetsu would never be able to afford such quality work, even if it does sound slightly like overkill. Yuuri decides not to press the offer any further: for his kindness, Victor deserves to have the tremendous gift he's given to Hasetsu go received gracefully if he wants to overlook the weight of the matter.

"You must be exhausted," Yuuri says magnanimously, trying to change the subject. "Do you want tea or water or something?"

"Thank you, but I'm fine."

"Are you sure? I can—"

"Yuuri, honestly." Victor reaches out, touches Yuuri's wrist. "I don't even have a lesson prepared. I am just here for the wonderful company."

Yuuri's heart clenches at what he knows is a gentle but no less sarcastic jab at his expense, but Victor's fingers against his pulse feels… Yuuri soldiers on. "I have work to do."

"Please, don't let me keep you."

With regret, Yuuri pulls his hand from Victor's touch and shuffles over to the cot. He busies himself with tidying, not that there is much to do. With the ill omen bringing so many of the same ailments, there hasn't been as much guessing as his work usually requires.

So, the area is relatively neat. The most intensive part is to cleanse the sheets and bedroll, which Yuuri keeps for last. Thanks to years of helping his parents at the hot springs, it is a task long engrained in Yuuri's subconscious.

It should be effortless.

But the audience makes Yuuri hyperaware of his actions, and suddenly a simple procedure feels more than that, somehow. It's the first time Victor has had the chance to see Yuuri perform it, since Victor only concerns himself with Yuuri's competitive spell shapes, not what he produces for his livelihood. Victor shouldn't care about this cleansing spell: nothing so small and pedestrian would ever make it into a routine.

But now, with Victor as his witness, this utilitarian task becomes to Yuuri as sacred as one might value a private exhibition performed for a particularly attentive patron.

Yuuri's being immature, and he knows this.

Still, Yuuri angles his body so that he can keep the sight of Victor's curious face in his periphery.

To start, Yuuri takes a sprig of mint from the batch he keeps right by the bed. Yuuri rips a few leaves near his nose and takes a deep breath. The crisp smell overwhelms his senses before he tames it by shaping a plum-sized marble of magic around the leaves. As the leaves dissolve, the marble glows a pale green the exact shade of his mother's mint tea. But the color keeps only for a moment before Yuuri drops the ball onto the cot. It disappears into the fibers—not to stain, but to spread. Yuuri closes his eyes and follows the mint as it creeps through the cotton weave, like—like the smell of a warm hearty soup filling a cabin on a cold day.

Yuuri chuckles at the image but accepts it, letting the shape guide his spell. He follows the magic with his hands, running the length of the cot in winding movements as the mint sinks into the sheet and bedroll.

(Victor's eyes never leave him.)

Once he's satisfied every inch is covered, Yuuri holds the mint for a moment, a perfect balance, before he pulls. With this yank he captures trace amounts of sweat and any lingering omen remnants until all that is left behind is a cleansed, wrinkle-free cot ready to see its next patient.

Yuuri gathers the mint and all the dirt into another pale green marble, the same size as the last one. He's about to burn the thing when Victor interferes once again: "Stunning."

Victor has spent the last week arching his magic into monumental sparks of color and angles and power. Yuuri's little cast is but a speck compared to Victor's wards. Yet… the earnestness heard within Victor's praise is so enticing, so bald that Yuuri wants to believe him as readily as he needs to take his next breath.

Praise from Victor embarrasses Yuuri even as he craves it.

And he does. Crave it. He wants more. He wants… _He wants…_

Yuuri shakes his head. "It's nothing special. I'm sure you can do it in less time."

"I can't, actually."

What? "What?"

"Yakov didn't teach me any of these practical things. Giant wards, sure. How to make a splint? Useful enough, okay, sure. Tornados of fire that won't burn to the touch, sure to wow the tournament judges? Of course. But how to make a bed? No. Although… I guess it never occurred to me to ask." Victor shrugs. "It wasn't our concern."

That's… ridiculous.

Victor must know how ridiculous that is. He—

Yuuri is so disturbed by this reveal that when Victor asks "May I see that?" Yuuri doesn't fight him.

Yuuri floats the marble to Victor, and Yuuri stills as he feels the comforting silk of Victor's magic slide over his as Victor grasps control of the spell shape. Once it's been transferred, Victor lets the cast float above his right palm. The marble rotates slowly as Victor examines the spell, no doubt feeling the omen remnants caught in the sphere. Victor's focus is intense, like it is when they are training, but Yuuri wonders if Victor notices as the spell's color shifts from the green of Yuuri's mother's tea to something more crystalline aquamarine.

Yuuri desperately wants to know what image Victor is using as his focus, but Yuuri wouldn't dare ask for something so intrusive. So intimate.

(Yuuri wants to be someone Victor can share his focus images with. He wants… _He wants…_ )

"Yuuri."

Victor's voice is so serious that it breaks Yuuri's heart. Yuuri doesn't understand the change of tone and can't anticipate what can possibly be coming from his instructor's mouth next. It doesn't help that Victor's attention does not stray from the marble, so Yuuri can't seek out reassurance in his (beautiful, enchanting, calming) eyes.

Yuuri instantly starts freaking out.

"How many people have you treated this week?"

What? "Uh…"

"How many?"  
  
"I—I don't know. Thirty minutes after the fog came, they dragged in the first person and… I wasn't counting. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday… they were all pretty busy, but it slowed down yesterday and today."

"And Thursday?"

"Hm?

"You forgot Thursday."

"Are you sure?"

"It's Saturday today, Yuuri."

Oh.

Yuuri flinches at his mistake. Stupid… so stupid… can't even keep track of the days…

Anxious at the unknown direction this conversation is taking, Yuuri can't help reaching out for an anchor; he clutches onto the cot's sheet as tightly as he can within his shaking fingers. He tries to save face, knowing just how unsuccessful he will be but plowing forward anyway. "A—a—ah! Yes! That's what I meant. Thursday was busy too, I guess. But I only had two people today. The baker's daughter this morning, and Axel just now. I doubt there are many left whose symptoms haven't manifested yet and—"

"I'm submitting an official complaint to the council against the witch who performed the wards, with the intention of having his master caster status stripped."

Victor waits for a response that doesn't come; Yuuri is too shocked to make a sound.

"Yuuri, I need you to understand why. Do you know why?"

"N—no?"

The green marble sparks without warning, and it combusts into a tiny whirl of thunder and white flame. It lasts for only a few seconds, but it burns so hot there's no ash from what's left of the mint when Victor finally ends the cleansing cast.

It's about as dramatic a display as any Yuuri's seen from Victor, but Yuuri feels all the blood leave his face as Victor stands and advances on Yuuri. Victor… can't be angry at him, right? No, no, he's mad at that other witch. Not Yuuri. Yuuri doesn't know what day it is and forgot to greet Victor but that's no reason to be upset and—

Victor's hand is gentle as it lands on the crook of Yuuri's neck and shoulder, thumb thoughtlessly hooked across the base of the column.

His voice is even gentler.

"You silly, silly witch."

Yuuri wants to crumble under the tease, the touch… but with a strength he doesn't recognize in himself, and with a desperation he is all too familiar with, Yuuri stays upright. Head ducked, but he's still standing.

"Omens are serious business." Yuuri feels every word as a brush of air against his bangs. They're so close… "There's a reason towns pay so much for people like me and those in my coven to safeguard against them. It doesn't matter if an omen only comes once in an entire century; it'll have been worth it to ward against just that one time."

"I know this already."

Even if as a witch he doesn't have to fear them for himself, Yuuri knows how awful omens are. He couldn't project healing images into his neighbors' heads without seeing the inky nasty thoughts omens leave behind. They're hideous, omens are. They get into the mind and they infect with images meant to hurt, to confuse, to burn. Well, saying they _mean_ to do anything might give them more intention than they have. Omens are as sentient as a rock or a cloud or the mist they drop in on.

But one doesn't need to think to kill.

"You know but do you understand? I… Yuuri, I've been in the presence of omens before. I have seen the aftermath of one too. It's part of the job. It's what I do. But…"

Victor's grasp tightens but it doesn't hurt.

"Look at me."

Yuuri stares at Victor's chest.

"Look at me."

When Yuuri still doesn't, Victor brings his other hand to tip Yuuri's chin up. Victor's eyes glow bright blue and passionate in a way they hadn't earlier, and it takes all that Yuuri has in him not to drown in them.

"I have never, ever seen so poorly warded a town be so at ease just days after an omen's descent. Days, Yuuri. Days! No one dead. No one gone mad. It was a little quieter than usual, but otherwise it was a completely ordinary Saturday. Do you have any idea why that is? Do you? Do you know why I trust that Axel will not be in again with symptoms? Why none of your other patients will?"

Yuuri refuses to know the answer.

After a long moment, Victor sighs, disappointed.

Yuuri is ashamed by his reluctance to reply, and he thinks Victor will walk away from the conversation frustrated. Instead, Victor brings his hands to either side of Yuuri's jaw and drops his forehead against Yuuri's. Yuuri squirms for a moment, but it's a moment Victor gives him. They settle, Yuuri's hand still clutching the cot's sheet.

"If I placed you into a top-tier tournament tomorrow, you would lose as you always do," Victor says, his exhales slick against Yuuri's lips. Yuuri whines at the stark pronouncement, but he keeps still in the cradle of Victor's palms. "You will lose because while your short-burst casts are lovely and precise, your lack of confidence makes your overall performance lackluster at best, clumsy at worst. And the fact that you cannot perform a single fourth-level spell after so many years of practice is a disgrace to yourself, Hasetsu, your apprentice peer class, Celestino as your former instructor, and now to me as your current one.

"But… that's just for tournaments.

"That's tournament you. And here I thought that was all there was to you as a witch because that's all I ever thought to look at. I mean, you're not a registered master caster, so what else was there? 

"…But I was wrong, Yuuri. That's just one part of the beautiful vision that is Katsuki Yuuri. The past few days have proved that. The fact that you are standing at all and not drained to a husk proves that. You're wonderful. Truly, truly a wonder to behold."

"Victor…" Yuuri stutters out, devastated by the growing affection in his instructor's voice. "Victor, please, I… I—"

"I can't believe that after saying again and again that I would help you realize your potential, I still committed the most serious of sins: I underestimated you. Katsuki Yuuri, you are so, so, so good a witch already. I just couldn't see it." Victor scoffs to cover how sheepish he feels admitting his own ignorance. "My sweet and powerful apprentice, can you ever forgive me?"

Victor has said many nice things to Yuuri over the past few months.

All have stolen his breath.

All have made his legs tremble and his cheeks ache with how hard he's blushing.

All have meant so much to him, even as they cut him down with how unsure he is of whether he deserves the kind words Victor gifts him.

This is one more drop in a pool of sweet honey in Yuuri's heart. One more surprised but happy gasp of trust to treasure. One more reason to want V… to… to…

One more reason to love Victor.

One more, but it's no less moving for being one reason among many.

"Yes, Victor," Yuuri breathes out. "Thank you."

And it's the only answer Yuuri can possibly give because as much as he wants to deny the need for Victor to apologize, what Yuuri _desires_ is to give Victor what he needs: in this case, absolution. And—and—and it's what Yuuri desires for himself too. Because his feet hurt. They do. His feet hurt and he's barely slept and he's hungry and he's near depleted his entire mana supply. He worked… hard. Really hard. He's not a very good witch but he's at least worked _hard_ and so far his healing has kept. That's something. That's says something about Yuuri's… about Yuuri's skills.

And… and maybe he deserves not to be underestimated.

Deserves to be acknowledged outside of the tournament. Maybe…

Yuuri cannot admit to himself the full extent to why Victor's apology means so much to him, but even so, he can surrender forgiveness.

He can also surrender the depth of his love as he leans up to press a kiss against the sweetheart bow of Victor's lips.

Casting requires persistence, practice, and above all else, imagination. It's right there in the word. Imagination. Images. Every witch has a catalogue of images to draw from, and every spell requires the burst of a simile to guide its creation and execution. A witch cannot create something from nothing, and so Yuuri has been trained to find comparisons. To root out likes with likes. His life is a daisy chain of experiences, stitched together, drawn out across his memory like a quilt.

There is nothing that Yuuri can compare to the feel of Victor's lips against his for the first time.

Yuuri kisses Victor. Victor kisses Yuuri.

They kiss.

And the moment would always end too soon, even if they spent the next day pressed together, even if they spent the next forever in each other's embrace.

But it must end, and it is soon, although it is with great, literal pains that Yuuri draws back. He feels the last few days in his bones in a way he has been ignoring, as if now that he's taken a moment to acknowledge how much he's been asked to do, his body has been given permission to collapse.

Victor must see the shift in Yuuri's energy because he doesn't try to steal another kiss, although Yuuri kind of wants him to.

Instead, Victor slides his hand to where Yuuri's is still—oh, how embarrassing!—still curled tightly around the sheet. "I think it's my turn to ask: are you alright?"

He's asking about a lot of things, and Yuuri doesn't give him room to doubt. "I'm just finally feeling the last few days. I guess I'm tired? But I liked… if I could..." Yuuri can't help himself: he steals the second kiss. It's just a peck, but Victor shivers in delight against his mouth.

When they part, Victor guides Yuuri into his stool by the cot before running off to the other side of the room, to the kitchen.

From his perch, Yuuri observes Victor stumble around because even after months, Victor still doesn't remember where anything is. He swings open every cabinet promising to put on some tea and find a snack to hold them over until Takeshi comes with the soup. Victor doesn't ask for hints and Yuuri doesn't give any, even after Victor somehow misses the kettle the two times he passes over where it's stored. Instead, Yuuri laughs, sudden and low, a blush blown high on the curve of his nose.

 

**Author's Note:**

> ya can catch me at my [personal tumblr](http://faorism.tumblr.com) or my [fanwork one](http://faorismwork.tumblr.com).


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